LOLITA
by Vanilla Topping
Summary: Officer Roy Mustang becomes obsessed with an aristocratic family's 12 year old heir and seeks to possess him through deception and seduction. A pervert in denial meets an obnoxious brat. Oh dear. [AU RoyEd]


**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters and settings either belong to Fullmetal Alchemist creator; Arakawa Hiromu or Lolita creator; Vladimir Nabokov. I earn no profit in this but lay claim to this fanfiction.

Please do not archive, use or translate without my permission. People have recently been reposting my stories in forums and claiming them to be theirs. While I am partially flattered by this, intellectual theft is offensive in itself. Ask me nicely and I'll promise to say "yes".

**Notes:**AU. This starts before Roy takes the State Alchemist exam and I've made him a Warrant Officer (for now). Set in Ametris but I'm using the old England aristocratic system. The story is loosely based on the story 'Lolita' by Vladimir Nabokov.

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I bring you…

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**LOLITA**

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_Mine pour toujours _

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It was exactly a year and four months ago when I was called to the office. The General was behind his desk and had barely even cast a glance at me before shoving the brown envelope in my face. Nonetheless, my heart gave a nervous thump at his gaze. It was the first time I had been called in the presence of a General. The stripes of Warrant Officer that had previously seemed so glorious next to all the Privates in the mess hall was suddenly petty and inconsequential. Without looking up the General informed me that he expected a report within three days and dismissed me.

Summer had turned the inside of the old train into a furnace. If it was hot outside then it was cooking inside. Hughes had warned me of the weather and told me to forget the uniform. Since I would be on the assignment alone, as long as I put on the uniform when actually visiting the ones I'm supposed to be delivering the letter to, no one would be the wiser. Damn me and my respect for regulation for insisting otherwise.

So with my uniform clinging uncomfortably to my skin and feeling twice as heavy as usual, I had finally arrived in Rizenbul. Although I was aware that the man I was looking for lived here, the small country town still seemed like a highly curious place for an aristocratic family to live. The file had even said that the man was an Earl!

The home of Earl Hoenheim Elric was as grand as it ought to be. The rose garden was lush and well cared for yet the apple trees that surrounded the garden seemed to balance the stinking signs of wealth with subtle humbleness and helped set the Elric mansion in place with the countryside environment. Everything was unmistakably aristocratic but there was also an unspoken wholesomeness that made the mansion feel like a real and welcoming home.

I was shown inside by one of the maids and told that the master of the house was not due back until tomorrow but that the lady of the house would greet me soon. She left and returned soon with a tray of Darjeeling tea and vanilla biscuits which I accepted gratefully and sipping the fragrant tea I looked around.

Lady Patricia Elric introduced herself to me with "Just call me Trisha please, Officer, I'm only Patricia on the dotted line."

She offered me her hand as etiquette required and I bent to brush my lips against the back of her slender fingers. She asked me to stay for dinner as her husband should be back by then so we sat in the luxurious and spacious lounge room where she entertained me with talk of her rose garden (The apple trees turned out to be her idea. I should have guessed) and her family. Lady Elric despite her rank was obviously of common blood. I've got nothing against it of course. In fact, it was rather refreshing to meet an aristocrat who wasn't self-centred. Lady Elric seemed genuinely kind and honest and her talk of her family involved nothing about rank, wealth or politics. She talked about how old her children were and how proud she was of them.

It seemed that she had two sons. The older had picked up Earl Hoenheim Elric's penchant for alchemy and was influencing his brother to follow a similar path. "I just don't understand how healthy boys their age can find reading academic alchemy books interesting! When I had baby boys, I thought I would go through the same pains as my mother when she used to struggle to get my brothers to stop playing and study. But those who practically breathe alchemy books and if I allow them, I'm sure they'd rather sleep in the library than their beds!"

My, that did seem extreme. I asked if the lady knew alchemy. "No, no. I don't understand a word of what those books say. Do you know the alchemical arts, Officer Mustang?"

I humbly said "A know a little of the art, my lady." But actually, I'm pretty darn good. To say that wouldn't be proper though. Better play modest.

"Then would you like me to show you our library? There are still a few hours till the dinner bell, I'm sure our many alchemy books could occupy your time much better than myself."

Ah, she wanted to be elsewhere. I'm sure it was probably to freshen up before her husband came home and to spend some time with her children so graciously I accepted the library offer.

The lady's hospitable touch obviously hadn't reached everything as unlike the garden the walls of the hall definitely lacked homeliness. They were painted royal red and extravagant gold frames hung equally spaced along them. Unlike alchemy, I don't claim any expertise in the field of fine arts but even I could tell some of the paintings were old and extremely expensive. Many of them portrayed sceneries of distant lands where the land met the sea while some were historical paintings of famous wars and accomplishments. There were watercolour paintings and oil paintings. I felt like I was on a museum tour more than anything. How can people live in a place like this?

After making another turn (I had lost count of how many already), I found myself before a pair of handsome oak doors. I had absolutely no idea in which part of the mansion I was in now but at least we seemed to have made it to the library.

Sure enough, the lady pushed the library door to reveal what I could easily have mistaken to be the central library before me. The place was huge. Bookshelves towered in parallel rows along the walls and a golden chandelier hung from the roof. I breathed in the unmistakable smell of old paper, ink and knowledge and sighed.

"You're just like my son. He loves the stuffy smell of books too," she giggled.

I couldn't help blushing. I suppose liking the smell of books would usually be described as dusty and stuffy, but for some reason I've always liked it.

"There's a reading corner in the library next to the fireplace. When you've found a book that you like to can read it in the comfort of the armchairs over there," Lady Elric told me.

"Thank you very much," I replied.

"No need, you are very welcome here. The bell will chime thrice to signal dinner time. Should you miss it, I will send a maid down to fetch you from the library."

Ah good. That meant I wouldn't have to worry about finding by way back in this labyrinth. Again I thanked her.

The book collection was impressive to say the least. I wasn't sure where to begin looking and after picking out two books from the alchemy section, one titled "Alchemy and Nature", the other titled "Advanced Level Alchemy: Deconstruction and its many Components" I turned towards the fireplace to read.

If I had known what I would find there I would never have gone because that one singular moment when I turned around the corner, all previous standards of my life changed. It is one of those powerfully vibrant moments that poets spend lifetimes trying to capture in words.

Curled up on the thick rug before the fireplace with his shirt riding a little up his belly and head propped up on a thick tome was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The firelight seemed to turn the boy's fair hair into molten gold and the dancing shadows highlighted his smooth slender arms and legs. I couldn't stop the gasp that escaped my lips when I saw him frown in his sleep and curl his toes. He must have heard me because, God save me, he opened his eyes then and stared.

No, no, no. I was wrong. His hair was not molten gold, it's his eyes that were and when his gaze met mine for the first time, I was lost to all hope of salvation. Edward. My love. My world. My desire. My absolute sin. Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward…

-To be continued?-

**A/N: **

I just felt the compulsion to write this. If people actually like this I might consider continuing…


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